


Turn the page

by do_androids_dream



Series: Conquest is over (The smut series) [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Affection, Blow Jobs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fanart, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Heavy Petting, Kissing, Love, M/M, NSFW, Naked Cuddling, Oral Sex, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24998158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/do_androids_dream/pseuds/do_androids_dream
Summary: Geralt and Emhyr find out they are the main characters in a porn novel. Re-enacting a scene from the book seems pretty much unavoidable after that. There's just a little problem ...
Relationships: Emhyr var Emreis/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Series: Conquest is over (The smut series) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1900684
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49





	Turn the page

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Sorry, this is a repost (with a new title). I made a mistake and deleted this in an act of overreaction. But I've come to realize that there are people who actually like this. I still appreciate your comments, please just remember to be polite and constructive. 
> 
> The story was created as a mutual prompt with [@glossamyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glossamyre). Please read her adaptation :) Thanks again to her and [@angel__zoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shades_0f_cool/pseuds/angelzoo) for their support, beta reading, valuable hints, shoulders to cry on (not necessarily literally) and generally loving what I love. Go and read them both!
> 
> This one is linked to the [series](https://archiveofourown.org/users/do_androids_dream/series), but can be read alone.
> 
> NSFW.

He joins him very late, midnight has long passed. It isn’t unusual, though. Emhyr is devoted to his duties, and there are so many in an ordinary day. But since what had happened lately, these are hardly ordinary days - and the days are long. Emhyr is a little surprised to see Geralt still awake. He is sleeping a lot more than usual through the days, still recovering his shattered body from wounds a normal human being would certainly not have survived, and Emhyr doesn’t like the mere rememberance.

Geralt is sitting in the bed, reading a book in the light of some candles in a candleholder on the bedside table. He looks up when Emhyr comes in, puts the book away and remarks, "That’s crap."  
Emhyr sits down on the edge of the bed, kisses him as a greeting - they have not seen each other for the whole day, and this also is not very unusual - and glances on the title of the book: _To please a ruler._

"I believe this is the latest rage in the capital. I will have a lot of catching up to do when I return there one day."  
"Do you think so? That's not about politics, you know," Geralt answers amusedly. "This is basically porn, and it’s stupid."  
"It’s what?" Now Emhyr takes the book from the table and turns over the pages.  
"Ah, so now you’re interested," Geralt says, smirking. "You have to catch up on more than _books_."

Emhyr raises his eyebrows.  
"Are you suggesting something?" he asks calmly, but Geralt can see the hint of a sparkle in his eyes, even if he is tired from the long day.  
"I wonder why you aren’t sleeping."  
"Can’t sleep," Geralt says with a kind of frustrated sigh. "Still doze off too much during the day."  
"Well, you are supposed to be healing," Emhyr replies and kisses him on the forehead. "Maybe _you_ should better read about politics or something and not …" He casts another look at the text of the book and gets distracted.  
"Interesting," he murmurs.  
"What?"  
"This is obviously some kind of … love story between a … white-haired knight and … a king, which sound very much like … This is outrageous!"

He suddenly looks furious. This steep wrinkle on his forehead does not appear often, but it does not bode well.   
Geralt smiles broadly.  
"Yeah, I got that too. Word has spread very far, as it seems."  
"I will not be made a joke of in a _porn book_. That is about to cost somebody their head."  
He tries to find out the author’s name, but the book seems to be written by an "Anonymous".   
"Calm down,“ says Geralt. "I’m in this too, and I’m the one who’s getting constantly beaten up or fucked or _both_ , on every third page or so."  
"What?"  
"Yeah, and it’s written really badly. Except for this one scene here, wait …"

He takes the book out of Emhyr’s hands and turns the pages until he finds the position again, and shows it to him.   
Emhyr frowns and mutters, "I still can’t let get them away with that."  
"Hmm, but read on," Geralt says.  
He then wraps his arms - the right one finally out of the sling - around Emhyr, while the man is still reading, shaking his head and looking something between furious and embarrassed.   
"That is … very explicit."  
"It is supposed to be porn", Geralt states. "And it’s a very vivid imagination."  
"I can see that."

Emhyr keeps reading, frowning, and finally turns the book to Geralt, pointing on a page, asking, "Is this even _possible_?"  
Geralt surpresses a chuckle.   
"I suppose … not now though, if you care to try … Can’t bend my leg, I’m afraid …"  
" _If I care to_ … You really think I would …"  
Emhyr seems not to be able to stop the head shaking.  
"Why not?"  
Geralt frees his arms from the man, quickly takes the book out of his hands, throwing it on the table.   
"Because I don’t intend to follow instructions out of a _porn book_?" Emhyr answers indignant. "And you’re in no condition to …"

Geralt only smiles and pulls away the blanket under which he is lying - showing him to be very naked and very, very hard.  
Emhyr raises his brows.  
"You haven’t been touching yourself while you were reading that nonsense?"  
"Well, you weren’t here …"

He grabs Emhyr's shoulders, pulls him down, kisses him.  
Emhyr is withdrawing far too soon.  
"I still think you should …" he starts, his voice much darker now, as the effect of Geralt being naked and aroused becomes obvious on him.  
"You want me to sleep, you’ll have to give me a hand,“ Geralt says.  
Emhyr doesn’t roll his eyes, that is not his style, but the look he gives him is basically the same.  
"I won’t break", Geralt continues softly. "I’m just … I miss you."  
He starts to fumble with Emhyr’s clothes, pulling off that annoying long robe from him.   
"Me too", Emhyr admits with a familiar sparkle in his eyes, helping him, also getting rid of the shirt underneath.

"We'll start slowly," he decides with a quick glance at the left leg, still heavily bandaged from thigh to ankle and hardly movable.   
"Slowly is fine by me", mumbles Geralt and tugs at his trousers. "Take that off."   
"You are impatient," Emhyr remarks, but with that he really only states the obvious, and there is no blame in his voice: this time he himself is equally eager. He gets rid of all the rest of his clothes.

Emhyr’s eyes are very dark now when he slips into the bed beside Geralt, and the cause of this is not the dim, flickering candlelight. Geralt, still with his back against the headboard of the bed, just smiles - at the sight, of course, because he really loves that well-defined body, and he likes the obvious effect he has on this body, but also at the prospect. He has experienced longer periods of no sex at all, that is not the point. It seems to him, that this is just what they both need to wrap it all up - all the anger, fear and pain they went through.

They hadn’t even talked much about it, just somehow lived along as if nothing has happened, although it still has such a tremendous effect on their lives. It is not that the affection has ceased: they still kiss, they still sleep in a tight embrace, but beyond that, Emhyr almost seems afraid to touch him - and that is not only because Geralt is still hurt, that he is still in pain sometimes; it is because of the things Emhyr has been forced to do. Maybe they don’t even need to talk about it. But he really misses that intimacy they share. Where they don’t need words to make things right. To make them feel better, both of them. And he knows that Emhyr misses it too. He kind of seemed to have waited for an invitation.

Emhyr bends over to kiss him, teasingly slow at first - well they had _agreed_ on going slow - the touch of his lips is tender, almost searching, inquisitive, but also hesitant. As if he's trying to fathom whether this is alright. It feels a bit like everything is very new, even though it's so familiar. And Geralt assures him that it's alright, of course it's alright, and he does so not with words, but by returning the kiss. After this it is different, finally. Geralt knew he had been holding back, but now Emhyr grabs him by the neck, forcing Geralt’s head even closer, and almost forcefully opens his mouth with his tongue. But there is no need, for Geralt more than willingly opens up and lets him in and caresses his tongue with his own. Now _that_ isn’t very slow anymore, and Emhyr’s free hand starts to trail over Geralt’s body.

Geralt lets out soft noises, while Emhyr slowly moves his mouth to his neck, kissing him, inhaling his scent, moving ever so slowly downwards: kneading a shoulder, and deeper: caressing a scar, and deeper:licking a nipple. For every single noise he earns another kiss, another touch; for every slight sigh, for every surpressed moan. He's never quiet, that's a fact that Emhyr loved from day one. The usually rather taciturn witcher has a whole range of delicate tones, and Emhyr knows how to elicit them from him. He definitely knows how to make the wolf howl, but for now he will be content with the soft sounds.

Geralt reaches out, needing to touch Emhyr, but the man just pushes his hand away - because this is about Geralt, even if it’s about both of them - and makes his way further downwards, kissing every part of skin on his way, running his fingers over muscles, going slow and not so slow, caressing and demanding, kissing and licking and touching _everything_ , even the scar on his side he stills feels responsible for.  
He finally stops, looking deeply into his eyes, without saying a word, and clasps his cock with one hand. Geralt all but gasps when he then cups his balls with the other hand, and Emhyr delights in the fact that his very sensitive witcher closes his eyes at the touch.

Since Emhyr refuses to let him touch him, Geralt just decides to enjoy, closing his eyes and folding his arms behind his neck. Emhyr takes a moment to savour that sight: Geralt’s mouth is half-opened, the hair - it is too long now - is in his face again, and strands of it are blown away by his slow breathing. He is humming approvingly, as Emhyr slowly starts to move his hand. Then he bends over and kisses the tip of his member, and Geralt shivers slightly, but when Emhyr actually starts to let his mouth sink deeper, taking him in, he opens his eyes wide, and curses in surprise.   
Emhyr withdraws, fixing him with those dark eyes, asking calmly, "Do you want me to stop?"  
"I … what? _No_. It’s just … you’ve never done that before."

That is true. It is another topic they had never adressed - it just had always been this, a passion play with predefined characters from the moment it started, without the need to talk about it. Geralt had never bowed his knees before the Emperor - but he did so very willingly before Emhyr. It wasn’t even submissive, in a way it was odd even. They simply both had different styles of dealing with what the world was doing to them, two different styles of letting go. Two different styles that were very attracted to each other.  
"Not with you, yes,“ Emhyr says - it is a bold remark, and Geralt’s cock is twitching to his words, and Emhyr smiles and places his mouth over it once more. And yes, he obviously has done this before, and yes, he plays it slow and yes, he is very good at it. That at least is no surprise: he is very good at everything he starts, and Geralt knows that he almost never starts anything without ending it - and the mere thought makes him almost harder than he already is.

He feels Emhyr’s hot breath on his skin, his tongue up and down on his shaft, some soft nibbling here, some rougher sucking there. It is actually a shame that he has waited so long to show that talent. For although he has never done it - with him - before, he knows exactly what he has to do in order to continue to elicit those little sounds from Geralt that he likes so much. There is a soft sigh when his tongue slides from top to bottom, a small groan from the depth of Geralt’s throat when he licks over the glans. The most satisfying sound is a chopped off, gasping, _approving_ "Mh-mh" when he takes him all the way into his mouth. He takes him in deep, it's tight and warm and nearly overwhelming, and Geralt shifts, trying to move, but Emhyr pins him down. There is no release, there is just warmth and an up and down - of the mouth, and of his feelings.

After a while, Emhyr lets his hand aid him, gripping him firmly right above the scrotum, and shortly after that his hand follows the movement of his mouth - up, down, harder than before, much more serious, much more Emhyr; very close to a certain roughness that is kind of his trademark. Geralt grabs Emhyr’s hair, now letting out a sound that is almost a whining, and Emhyr looks up at him, and that is almost too much.

"You … you need to stop", Geralt pants, one hand in Emhyr’s hair, the other fisting the sheets, his eyes half closed. "I’m … I’m gonna … _oh_."   
The feeling of actually losing the touch of those lips is quite disappointing, but the smacking noise that follows is - again - almost too much.

Emhyr still is looking up at him, giving the tip of his cock a last fleeting kiss, a last almost lazy lick, enjoying another of those sweet noises Geralt makes, this time nearly desperate.  
Unexpectedly, but not unwanted, Emhyr's next move follows: he pushes Geralt gently but firmly down by the shoulders, from his sitting position into lying down. Then he carefully places a knee between Geralt's legs, pushing the right leg a little to the side. This way he can lie down on him without putting any weight on the bandaged left leg.

Now he reclaims his mouth, although it is quite willingly given, and Geralt can feel himself in that kiss, a remarkable taste, mixed with Emhyr's. And he knows, if he would let go completely now, he would be overwhelmed by the smells and the tastes and the feelings, maybe even pass out because it would just be too much: he would feel every single drop of sweat and taste everything that Emhyr has tasted and ... he holds on to the sheets, very tight. The lack of control is due to him still healing, his senses are hypersensitive.

For a while, Emhyr just lies upon him, as if he knows - and maybe he does - and so Geralt can calm down his heartbeat which is much too fast for a witcher. Emhyr is trying not to put too much weight on him, but he is actually enjoying it: being so close, in a way closer than in an embrace, even if it is very much alike. He is embracing him with his whole body, sliding a foot along his healthy leg, shifting a little, very slowly rubbing his cock against Geralt’s. Then he’s resuming kissing him tenderly, obviously now back to slow again, to let it last longer, let _him_ last longer. And it is hard, for he wants him so much, and so much more of him, because there is his scent and his body and his _hair_ , and everything of this is hard to resist on its own, but together it is almost impossible. And there are his eyes underneath him, this time they are golden, a little glossy, and he knows Geralt wants this too and much more, but as always, he is supposed to be the reasonable one, and he will be. He _can_ be, because he has not forgotten a single moment of the pain and the fear or any of the long hours of healing, and he won't spoil it. He pushes those thoughts away and just enjoys this moment.

Geralt wraps his arms around him, losing himself in the kisses and the touches, and still he wants more. It isn’t reasonable, and he knows it, he can still hardly stand, bending the leg in any way is impossible and he is still exhausted from the littelest moves he makes during the day. He knows he shouldn’t, and he probably even can’t, and Emhyr is far more reasonable than he is, although he is trying very hard. But still - it’s making him crazy.

He grabs Emhyr’s ass with both hands, partly also to hold on to him, breathing a little too fast into his ear, whispering incoherently, while Emhyr lets one hand wander across his body, and Geralt has the feeling he will come just from the feeling of his body on top of his alone. Now the hand is on his cock again, he is so hard it almost hurts, and Emhyr is no less hard, he feels him rubbing against his stomach, leaving small wet spots on him. Geralt exhales loudly.

"Am I too heavy for you?" Emhyr whispers, eyes locked on his, moving himself slightly on him, touching him delicately, and Geralt can only whine and smile and wrap his arms around him even tighter.Then the hand becomes more demanding, stroking harder, and the other hand goes up into Geralt’s hair, whirling through it, but his eyes are still locked upon his. He teases Geralt’s lips again with his own, setting ever so soft kisses, and Geralt rears up to catch those lips, and he rears up to thrust himself into that hand, and Emhyr meets his movements.  
He can barely move now, Geralt's grip on his ass is almost painful, but he still strokes him, strokes him hard, and he bites his shoulder - not too hard, but not particularly gently either - and he whispers in his ear that he feels _good_ , that he feels _warm_ , and a lot of other things that Geralt can't understand over the roaring of his own heartbeat, too loud and too fast.

Emhyr feels Geralt’s body tense up underneath him, his heavy breathing turns into wheezing, and he knows the signs. He rises quickly, sits up straight, his knees on either side of Geralt's thighs, and all it takes is one more stroke, one fierce grip.  
Finally Geralt can’t hold off any longer, and his moan is nearly a small howl, and he comes all over himself, shaking and shivering and twitching like he hasn’t done this for a long time or maybe for the first time, and he doesn’t care. Emhyr is still looking at him, now stroking himself fiercely. He lasts two or three strokes longer, but watching Geralt is more than enough. He makes no sound when he shoots of all over Geralt’s body, he just bits his lip and closes his eyes.

When he opens them again, he sees Geralt grinning broadly.  
"Boy, you were starved,“ he remarks, pointing all over him, over the sticky mess he is.  
A wonderful mess to Emhyr, who corrects him softly, " _We_ were."  
Geralt closes his eyes, calming his breath. He feels Emhyr rise, leaving the bed for a moment, feels him coming back and then, gently, wiping him clean with some cloth. He hums, and when the cloth is gone, he opens his eyes again, just to see Emhyr lying on his side, watching him as he does almost every time after.

His gaze is intense, as if he could take it all in, as if he could store an image on his retina, but the memory would contain much more than just the naked body; it would also store his feelings. He has already stored such memory images, they contain every single scar, every elevation, every mark on his skin. He has stored an image of that smile, the sound of his own name coming out of that mouth; he has many such images. He doesn't know it, but Geralt has very similar memories of him, very similar pictures and exactly the same feelings.

"You have no idea what I will do when you are able to bend that leg again,“ Emhyr says in a voice that sounds as if he was talking to his scriver about daily business - but the abiding sparkle in his eyes betrays him.  
"I knew that particular part of the book would turn you on,“ Geralt replies teasingly.  
Emhyr just snorts.

Then he rolls onto his back, stretching out one arm.   
"Come here,“ he commands, and of course Geralt obeys and slips carefully into his embrace, placing his head into the crook of Emhyr’s neck. He suddenly feels tired, feels his eyelids droop. Emhyr watches him, inhales the scent of his hair, holds him tight. These moments are rare, it’s rare when nothing is wrong, and though things are far from being alright, this comes very close to ideal.

"I still want the head of whoever wrote that,“ he then says, perfectly calm.   
" _Emhyr_ …"

They remain silent for a while, just breathing together, listening to each others heartbeats - one of them unnaturally slow again - just holding and being held.  
"Do you think you can sleep now?" Emhyr asks, but he receives no answer. He crooks his head a little to watch Geralt’s face - his eyes are closed, his breathing is even.

Emhyr smiles, placing a kiss somewhere in the mess of white hair and closes his eyes, too.

* * *

  
I've had this one commissioned by [this artist](https://twitter.com/arts_vendor), go check them out!

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from a Blind Guardian song. Obviously.


End file.
